


Optimus/Starscream OTP Advent

by SparkKisses



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Drabble Collection, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:36:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 9,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkKisses/pseuds/SparkKisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modified 30 Day OTP Challenge. Cut some themes to fit more with Cybertronians and posted on http://primescream.livejournal.com/ for the Advent event 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

    "No, not _that_ way you imbecile!"  
    

    A hand grabbed his as the shriek of a missile blossomed into an explosion on his left, and shrapnel bit into his heat-warped frame even as he was pulled swiftly away and behind an outcropping that shielded them both from the worst of the weaponsfire.  
    

    Starscream rounded on him, red optics blazing.  
    

    "Thank yo-" Optimus started, only to splutter to a stop as Starscream's free hand came up to grab him by an antennae and shake him.   
    

    " _Moron!_ " Starscream shrieked louder than the bombs. "You could have gotten us _both_ killed!"  
    

    By now, Optimus knew not to argue. It wasn't the time or place for discussing their dysfunctional relationship and why they should never have bonded in the first place - now, with enemies all around them and the rest of their respective teams left behind in that initial charge, all Optimus could do was squeeze Starscream's hand still clenched around his own.


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

    Starscream's systems hummed, while Optimus Prime's purred. It wasn't the first time Starscream noticed it of course, but it was harder to ignore with his face pressed against the Autobot's chest while they both cooled down. The Prime was, for once, blessedly silent, and so Starscream could listen to him better, optics dimmed while he filtered out the noise of his own cooling fans.   
    

    There. The deep, resonant purr of a powerful engine idling... ready to start growling again when it was time to go.   
    

    When he'd gotten his fill, Starscream smirked and pushed himself off that broad chest and looked down at the drowsing Prime.   
    

    "Well," he murmured, "Now that we've gotten the warm-up out of the way..."  
  



	3. On A Date

    Humans had long since learned to tolerate the unusual vehicles coming to the only retro-style drive-in movie theater in the state. They'd even adjusted to their curious extraterrestrial customers' quirks by modifying the establishment's rules, and posting them large enough for everyone to read comfortably.   
    

    "This is stupid!"  
    

    So there was no reason why the jet in their midst should have been talking during the film.  
    

    "Starscream, this isn't-"  
    

    "Don't you shush me, Prime!" The jet rocked back and forth on its landing gear. "This film is drivel! Why would a troop of unmatured humans be wandering into the wildnerness? Humans are stupid, but _these_ are a perfect example of why they should be managed! A good cull would eliminate stupid stock such as-"  
    

    The movie's villain came on screen, looming behind a teenager separated from the group, and the jet's tone abruptly changed.  
    

    " _He's right behind you_!" the jet's voice warbled, half angry and half plaintive. "Idiot! Look around! Why aren't you more aware of your surroundings, you know those woods are haun- _EEEEEE_!"  
    

    Optimus Prime's gentle nudge to scare the seeker worked apparently too well. The Autobots were sent a repair bill on top of a fine for disturbing the peace, and all jets were henceforth banned from participating in drive-in movies.


	4. Kissing

    Heights did not scare Optimus Prime. Petty fears such as that had long since been scoured from his spark over the course of the war, and now that the war was over, those useful traits seemed to linger. So it was with an air of casual relaxation that he sat at the edge of this newly constructed tower and let his legs dangle over the edge while the wind blew against his broad frame.   
    

    His spark jumped a little in its casing at the sound of jet turbines roaring.   
    

    Starscream levitated upward along the tower wall, surfacing in front of Optimus. He knew it was Starscream, despite the darkness.  Their new sun set behind the seeker and made his optics seem as if they were backlit in the shadow that made up his silhoutte. Optimus knew that mouth was smirking, though he could not see it either.  
    

    "Beautiful," Optimus said, but the words were lost in the wind and the low roar of turbines keeping the seeker aloft. Starscream was leaning towards him, and Optimus moved closer, eager to hear whatever the Air Commander had to say that could not be trusted to comm links -   
    

    His face guard had no sensory data attached to it. It was, despite being a part of his body, an essentially lifeless piece designed to protect his cranial structure. Despite this, the soft, brief kiss pressed against it burned well after Starscream had vanished back into the night.  
  



	5. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

    "I'm going to have to confiscate that," Optimus sighed, one hand upturned towards his doppleganger.  
    

    "What?" his own voice rumbled back at him, sounding uncharacteristically outraged. " _Why?_ I'm entitled to... uh, express myself any way I deem fit! Isn't that an Autobot code or something?"  
    

    Optimus put a hand to his face, already exasperated. "It is," he conceded, "but you cannot masquerade around as the Autobot Commander and start issuing orders as if you really were me. That little disguise may have fooled the humans, but it doesn't work here."  
    

    "Worked well enough on those Dinobot buffoons," the other Optimus sniffed, flicking imaginary dust from a smokestack. "Besides, I rather liked it. It's nice to be the Prime, isn't it?"  
    

    "For pity's _sake_ Starscream," Optimus finally snapped, "hand it over!"  
    

    "Alright, alright!" He lifted his hands up and removed the head-piece, voice modifier disabling to let Starscream's natural tones pierce the air. " _Megatron_ let me do it."   
    

    Somehow, Optimus didn't doubt that.  
  



	6. Hanging Out With Friends

    "I'm going," Starscream announced with a flippant wave over his shoulder. Optimus glanced up at him over the edge of a datapad.   
    

    "Already?" he asked.  
    

    "I'm bored," Starscream responded, already turned away and walking towards the door. "And my wingmates are hopeless without me there to guide them away from their own idiocy. You can manage well enough without me."  
    

    Before Optimus could answer, the door had slid shut behind Starscream and left the Autobot Commander blinking at it.   
    

    "Oh, well," he murmured, head tilting down towards his chest. "I suppose even he needs time to see his friends." And he wouldn't begrudge Starscream that, certainly. But already, the room seemed... emptier. Optimus sighed into it and set the datapad down, both hands now free to fold over the center of his windshields.  
    

    "We'll have to tell him next time, then." His gaze returned to the closed door.  
    

    "... I hope he takes it well."  
  



	7. With Animal Ears

    "Well," Ratchet sighed as he spooled in the newly unconnected cables. "It's definitely a virus."   
    

    " _Genius_ deduction, medic," Starscream snarled, pacing to the head of the medical berth to squint down at the half-conscious and heavily sedated patient's face. It had... changed. A side-effect of this so-called virus that first modified the behavioral processors, then took hold of transformation cogs and altered the Cybertronian affected to something more like the virus's original hosts. It was theorized that this new virus had mutated and made the jump from what was left of Cybertron's fauna, to the returning mechs who now re-inhabited the planet.  
    

    Starscream stared down at Optimus Prime and asked, flatly, "How long is he going to be... affected?"  
    

    "Only a few hours more," Ratchet replied as he finished packing away his tools again. He had been worried at Prime's state, at first, but as time went by and the cure (an anti-viral patch their scientists and medical team were certain would do the trick) administered, Ratchet relaxed... and he could see the humor in the situation.  
    

    It wasn't every day that your Prime transformed to look like some strange mixture of mech and cyber-dog.  
    

    Starscream hissed with displeasure - and missed the flickering light of Optimus Prime's optics coming fully online again. "Why will it take-?! _UGH!_ THAT'S _DISGUSTING_ , PRIME!"  
    

    Optimus merely licked his lips and grinned up at his seeker, unashamed. "Woof," he said.  
    

    "Very funny," Starscream sarcastically replied, and wiped his hand off on the Prime's uncovered face. His fingers inadvertently brushed Optimus Prime's currently oversized antennae... which twitched upward at the touch.  
    

    Starscream very nearly snatched his hand back in surprise. "They're _mobile_ now too?" But Optimus pushed himself up enough to nudge Starscream's hand in a silent demand, and the seeker's digits ran over the broad antennae in automatic response. Optimus murmured happily and tilted his head this way, then the other, following Starscream's hand as it switched sides.   
    

    "Heh," Starscream chuckled, smirking as he watched the Prime's hands twitch as he started to scratch lightly at the base of one antennae. "Moron."


	8. Making Out

    "Give it back..."  
    

    "Hmmm?" Starscream didn't look up from his prize, turning the molded metal plate this way and that in his hands. It had been hard-won, and he certainly wasn't going to let it go just because Optimus was whimpering about it.  
    

    ... hmm?  
    

    Starscream glanced up at his... "partner". Optimus was where he'd left him, cornered on their over-large berth... hands covering his face, pale blue optics peering out from between fingers.  
    

    "... What are you doing?" Starscream asked, crawling closer to Optimus with the mask still tightly in hand, voice low and teasing. "Are you hiding?"  
    

    "No..." But Prime's tone wavered uncertainly and made it a lie. Starscream's optics brightened and his smirk widened predatorily.   
    

    "Oh?" The word was a short, blunt weapon. The seeker's wings wiggled slightly as he invaded the Prime's personal space, even more excited at the way Optimus leaned away from him. "What are you hiding under there, hmmm?" He reached up with his free hand and tugged at Prime's fingers. "Afraid to let me see?"  
    

    He got a glare in response. "I'll take that as a yes, then," Starscream concluded.   
    

    "Are you done now?" Optimus asked, attempting to sound short with the seeker. "I'd like it back, please."  
    

    "Who says you'll get it back?" Starscream replied flippantly, still determinedly pulling at Prime's fingers, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever malformity Optimus was so determined to hide. "Come now, Prime. Surely it's not that bad?"  
    

    "It's none of your business, now please-!"  
    

    "Ooh, I like it when you beg..."  
    

    "Starscre _AGH_!"  
    

    Starscream released the twisted windshield wiper as Prime's hands jerked downward, insinctively seeking to protect the fragile (if non-vital) components. The seeker slapped both hands on either side of Prime's face as the mask clattered against the berth surface between them.  
    

    The triumphant grin on Starscream's face slowly faded as he took in the sight before him. Prime's face was surprised and embarrassed, optics wide and pale with shock, mouth slightly open...   
    

    And there was not a mark on it.   
    

    Rather than the horrific battle scar Starscream had anticipated, the face beneath Prime's mask was pristine... and young-looking. And, once the surprise wore off, rather handsome.   
    

    The scrutiny apparently flustered Optimus even more. He gaped, then tried to pull away again and raise his hands - but Starscream wasn't willing to give up this hard-earned prize either. A split-second decision borne more out of a desire to keep Optimus from covering his face again than out of any more... _carnal_ desire, had Starscream surging forward to crash his lips into Prime's own. And it was a crash; the softer metal met with an awkward and painful clang that Starscream emphasized with a bite to those nicely-sculpted lips.  
    

    The bite was gentle (for Starscream anyway) but the message was clear: There was to be no hiding from Starscream, Air Commander, Lord of the Skies, once he'd found your weakness. And _oh_ , what a weakness this was!   
    

    Optimus had frozen, hands halted where they hung in the air, half-lifted, and optics bright and unfocused even when Starscream pulled away, licking his lips.   
    

    "... That'll do," the seeker proclaimed smugly.


	9. Eating Ice Cream

    The building had the audacity of using neon - _neon_ \- fueled cells to light its gaudy display out front. It was outdated as the rest of the place, so it was keeping in the theme of being somewhere that Starscream would never go willingly, yet somehow found himself inside anyway.  
    

    The sign outside flashed the words "Kaon Creamery" in English - useless to any of the mechs who had not stayed on Earth during the war... but then, given the product available, it wasn't for them.   
    

    Optimus Prime was asking the servermech behind the counter for directions, but Starscream was not so much a fool. They were lost in Kaon. New Kaon it may call itself, but that didn't change the kind of mecha who would set up shop in the shell of a city once renowned for its violence and depravity.   
    

    Somehow they wound up sitting at one of the rickety tables, both perched on the edge of their respective chairs - Starscream because of their surroundings, and Optimus because he wasn't sure the thing could hold his full weight - with a dimly glowing glob of... _something_ between them.  
    

    Starscream stared. "What the slag is this."  
    

    "Energon ice cream," Optimus answered, also staring. "It's... new."  
    

    "It looks disgusting."  
    

    Optimus glanced to the server, still behind the counter, to see if they had been offended. Such glances were second nature now, given how long he had been responsible for cleaning up after Starscream. But the mech was staring at a wall, looking bored and disinterested.   
    

    "I'm sure it's not that bad..." Optimus mused, his gaze floating back to the mounded energon slowly congealing in its dish. "It's supposed to be based on human ice cream. And they seemed to enjoy it very much."  
    

    Starscream sneered. "They enjoyed many things, Prime, many of which make my tanks churn."  
    

     Bravely, Optimus lifted a spoonful from the dish and inspected it. "It can't be so bad," he murmured, seemingly to himself. Starscream watched, mouth open with horrified fascination as the Prime's mask split and slid to either side of his face, and those lips parted hesitantly to admit the dripping, half-melted confectionary that was, in all likelihood, toxic in some form or another -  
    

    Starscream lunged and, before either of them knew what was going on, the seeker had chomped onto the spoon in Prime's hand.  
    

    "....." Optimus Prime stared, frozen.  
    

     "....." The energon was sweet in Starscream's mouth, and cold. The shock of it kept him there, staring with wide, bright optics into Optimus Prime's surprised face for a few moments too long before he finally regained his senses and retreated, taking the spoon with him. He plucked it from his mouth with an air of casual disdain.  
    

     "... Who said you deserved the first bite?"


	10. Genderswapped

    "So..." Optimus Prime waited patiently for Sparkplug to continue, silent while the human processed what he had been told, muttering to himself and alternating between glancing skeptically at the Autobot leader and then looking away with an air of embarrassment. "So we've, uh..." Sparkplug finally stammered, "We've been using the wrong word all along?"  
    

    "Not especially," Optimus assured him. "We do not have sexes the way humans do."  
    

    "Well, yeah," Sparkplug scoffed through the red blush coloring his face. "I know that well enough from having worked on you guys. Er... folks. People. Autobots!"  
    

    Optimus chuckled a little at his discomfort. "Do not trouble yourself, Sparkplug," she told him. "I merely wished to answer your question sufficiently. Have I done so?"  
    

    "Yeah..." Sparkplug scratched his head. "Yeah, I suppose so. Almost makes me wish I hadn't gone nosing through your schematics, you know?"  
    

    Optimus didn't know, but she didn't say so.   
    

    "Anyway," the human sighed, "If you don't mind me asking..." He glanced shyly up at the Autobot leader's face for a go-ahead, but Optimus was as patiently open as ever, so he proceeded. "I get the _how_. Different, specialized, exclusive equipment and all. But I still don't understand the _why_. Why're you built different from the rest of the Autobots?"  
    

    "Because," she answered calmly, "I am a Prime. That is the distinction, for us. A Prime's system must be different in order to communicate with the Matrix."  
    

    She was glad Sparkplug nodded with comprehension, apparently satisfied, because it wasn't precisely the entire truth.  
    

    For Cybertronians, it was an easy enough concept. Primes were... different. Their language made accomodations for that, a whole dictionary of exclusive words for them. English, however... English was tricky. Until the humans invented more words to jam into their language, there was no way to describe what made Optimus Prime different from the other Autobots in such a fundamental way.  
    

    For now, the simplest way to explain it to Sparkplug was that, contrary to the adopted male pronouns Cybertronians accepted on Earth, Optimus Prime was female-identifying.  
    

    No human needed to know what all that entailed. They knew that the Matrix was an important artifact to their alien friends, and now they knew that Optimus Prime's physical status as "female" made her uniquely suited to carry it.   
    

    When, weeks later, Sparkplug had jokingly suggested to Ratchet that the distinction was a lack of "male plugs" on Optimus Prime's part, the confused human found himself gently but firmly set down outside the medical bay - and locked out. He was forgiven in a matter of days, and learned his lesson, but Ratchet was still fuming internally, casting sidelong glares at the organic that could not help his own ignorance.  
    

    They only truly reconciled after Ratchet had received his ornly blessing - quite a bit early, but Optimus did not keep to a schedule any more. Those who needed the blessings of Primus received them, no matter how often. It was, according to many, one of the numerous traits that distinguished her from the previous Primes, as was her open policy - not only did those Autobots who needed to be reminded of the continued presence of their creator and their loyalty to the Prime receive just that, but every Autobot received their blessing... and, in the distant past, some neutrals as well.  
    

    On Cybertron, during a quiet time between seiges, an Autobot soldier hunkered down in the same bunker as her turned and asked her if she would deny any Decepticon a blessing. She was still a young Prime, then, and it took her a few moments and a few rifle shots around their cover to formulate an answer.   
    

    "There have always been uprisings," she said to him. "Small rebellions of mechs injured by their circumstances and lashing out in their pain. It is the duty of a Prime to heal them, and bring them back into the fold."  
    

    But only after the rebellion had been crushed, only after their faction had been defeated and captured. If the memories that resided within the Matrix were still remembered by some mechs, it was then little wonder why no Decepticon ever came to her, asking for their owed blessings. If they remembered the fates of the ancestors of their ideals, Optimus Prime had no doubt they would rather continue their long, violent struggle several eons more.  
    

    It was, therefore, of great surprise to her when Starscream asked permission to enter Autobot air space and, upon landing, blithely asked for his due from the Prime, oblivious or uncaring to the myriad weapons pointed at his chest and head.  
    

    It was unprecedented. Nevertheless, Optimus Prime accepted. It was her duty, she explained to outraged officers, and Starscream had agreed to certain precautions that were the bare minimum for Red Alert's approval.  
    

    "I wish you would think of your own safety first sometimes," Prowl muttered bitterly. She touched his arm, and he subsided.  
    

    They had no proper temple, no sacred space infused with calming electrical fields. The closest they had ever come to holy scripts were the few glyphs and pictographs remembered and painted on the walls of the Prime's quarters, haphazardly, like graffiti. Optimus expected a remark about the state of it, but Starscream did not seem to care about their surroundings as he entered, merely casting a disdainful, smug look to the Autobots standing guard outside. He maintained that expression even as the door slid shut and granted them some measure of privacy.   
    

    "Welcome," Optimus rumbled (perhaps not as warmly as usual, but she was still uncertain about Starscream's reasons for being here). Starscream purred and stretched his arms above his head languidly; Optimus watched his wings shift a little with the rest of his plating.   
    

    "Certainly," the seeker chirped - the tone made Optimus pause further, a little taken aback. Of course Starscream sounded different in here. This was not a battlefield, nor a tense negotiation. This was a Blessing. She forced herself to relax.   
    

    "I came for a _Blessing_ , Prime," he continued. "Not to be stared at. Though I can't blame you."  
    

    Trust Starscream to ruin things.  
    

    "Why are you here, Starscream?" she asked. "The truth, if you please. Why request such a thing now?"  
    

    " _Tsk_ ," Starscream clicked disapprovingly, his smirk fading. "Bringing up something as _profane_ as politics. Ah, well," and the smirk returned, a little softer perhaps, "I always loved blaspheming anyway."  
    

    A warning growl had the seeker continuing quickly.   
    

    "I came," he said, "for you. There are rumors..." but he didn't elaborate on them, moving on, "I want to see if they are true. I've never been with a Prime before, and I'd like to know that experience before Megatron kills you, you see. It's nothing to do with religion. I'm just... curious."  
    

    Starscream's chief flaw, coming to the surface again: he couldn't leave well enough alone. Optimus stared evenly at him. Whatever his reasoning, she could not deny him. Let him be disrespectful - it was in his nature, evidently. It would end soon enough.  
    

    She walked past Starscream and settled on the table in the middle of the room, sitting primly upon it. She mentally prepared herself and then, finally, beckoned Starscream closer with a crooked finger.  
    

    The look on his face was satisfying, at least. His previous bravado seemed to have melted into a kind of nervous awe that left his optics wide, wings flicking, and mouth slightly slack. In another time, another place, it might have even been endearing. As it was, she suppressed the flicker of amused affection that skittered across her spark as the seeker haltingly approached, looking for all the world like he expected Optimus to lash out at him at any moment.  
    

    "It doesn't hurt," she reminded him. She couldn't help but tease a little. Thankfully, it seemed to return Starscream back to normal.  
    

    "I've done this before!" he snapped, finally crossing the distance between them and hopping nimbly onto the table with Optimus.   
    

    "I thought you said-"  
    

    "Interfacing," Starscream corrected.  
    

    Optimus didn't bother correcting his misconception. It wasn't the first time she had heard the two acts confused - many Autobots had the same problem. She had shown them differently, in the end.   
    

    A panel on her chest clicked open, attracting Starscream's attention. The ports inside were ringed with blue spark-light. Mirage had once expounded on the reasons for why the array was built that way, with the Matrix's light spilling through to entice stray sparks back to where they belonged... but Mirage had a tendency to ramble poetically post-overload, and Optimus had never put much stock in the words. But with the way Starscream was staring, she started to wonder.  
    

    "What?" Starscream asked, shaking his helm a little to recover some of his senses. "No foreplay?"  
    

    "Contrary to what you may think," she said, "This is not interfacing."  
    

    "Doesn't mean there can't be foreplay," Starscream muttered, a bit sullen. But he sat across from Optimus and kept his hands to himself. "Fine. I guess you've waited long enough."  
    

    Optimus was silent - until Starscream's own panel slid aside. "What-" But Starscream was leaning forward, a cable in hand, red optics focused intently on hers.   
    

    "Do I have permission?" The informal request surprised Optimus, but it was traditional to ask, and thus her response was automatic: "Yes, you have permission." Even though she was still trying to get another look at Starscream's array, trying to identify what was different about it.   
    

    She would have a chance to look while the Blessing was occuring, of course. The act itself did not have much affect on her. While the recepient shuddered and moaned and sobbed under the bliss, she watched them. It was her duty, after all, to watch over them, inside this room as well as outside it.   
    

    But as Starscream plugged into her, she knew something was wrong.   
    

    A gasp rattled her vents at the sudden surge that pushed into her spark. Deeply alarmed, she grabbed onto Starscream's arms, intending to push him away, her battle computer already calculating what sort of virus may have been contracted - but Starscream's equally shocked expression stalled her.  
    

    "What is-" Starscream started... but another surge left them both struggling to retain coherency. It took two repititions of this for Optimus to realize that this was pleasure... that each pulse of energy was making her spark flicker restlessly behind the Matrix.   
    

    _Why?_ she wondered, shock slowly fading into... something else. Why was she feeling this way? This wasn't how it was supposed to  go -   
    

    Data began transferring through the cable that connected them, shutting down Optimus Prime's higher functions yet again while she processed it. Schematics. Current operating levels.   
    

    Memory files.  
    

    It was common practice amongst Cybertronians, data-transfer during interfacing. It was such an intimate act for that very reason. It was, however, a new experience for Optimus - her hardware was incompatable with others', and was thus incapable of reading the data.   
    

    But now she found herself a third-party observer behind Starscream's optics as the Decepticon Air Commander stared impassively at a wall while Thundercracker groaned and shuddered in front of her. She heard Starscream's voice call out into the burnt-out ruins of what seemed to be a laboratory. She incorporated all the data seamlessly as Starscream argued with Skyfire.  
    

    "What you're talking about is dangerous," Skyfire insisted. Starscream glowered.   
    

    "And what should I call it instead?" he - she, the memory-data supplied, confused - snapped. "A glitch? You've looked at the coding, at the hardware! You've attended a Prime Blessing... can you say it was any different?"  
    

    The memory-Skyfire looked suddenly angry, a look Optimus was so unaccustomed to that it made the data hiccup with her surprise.   
    

    "-different," Skyfire rumbled. "Don't. Starscream, _don't_. That's blasphemy."  
    

    "Well," Starscream sniffed, and Optimus could feel the quiet anger, confusion, and hurt swirling in that spark, her own spark pulsing in sympathy, reaching out -   
    

    "I guess I'm a blasphemous existence then."  
    

    Optimus Prime keened. Dimly, she heard the sound echoed back at her as she came back into frantic, hungry awareness. More, her spark sang, more! as she looked at Starscream's face, optics dim with pleasure, mouth slack and every vent wide open.  
    

    "Prime," he gasped. _She_ gasped. The glyphs glitched in Prime's processors, reassigning pronouns.   
    

    Another file downloaded, sending with it another pulse of bright energy, pulled straight from the spark.   
    

    It shot through Optimus like cannon-fire. Her joints locked, a bellow frozen in her throat. There was a dim awareness of Starscream, bowed with trembling appendages and still connected, suffering under that same pleasure.  
    

    When the surges passed, it was Optimus who recovered first. Her ventilation fans continued to roar as she sat upright again and gently disconnected the plug still occupying her port. The panel closed again with a too-loud click.  
    

    She felt raw. Exposed. Scoured and exhausted from a physical exercise she had never experienced before, and knowledge that continued to plague her thoughts.  
    

    When Starscream rebooted, it was to Optimus Prime's stare.  
    

    "You're a femme," Optimus said. Starscream merely stared back at her for a few moments, then smirked and shrugged fluidly as she sat up again and swung her legs over the side of the table, letting them dangle.  
    

    "Not officially," Starscream said. "I appear to have the equipment of one, but we all know that femmes are the property of the Iacon Temple." She shot Optimus a cutting smile. "I'm no one's property."  
    

    "You weren't built in Iacon," Optimus said. She wasn't certain, but the sudden frown on Starscream's face made it true.   
    

    "That, too," Starscream grudgingly admitted.  
    

    Femme. The priestesses of Cybertron, higher than any common Cybertronian, but less than Primes. If a Prime's primary objective was to act as a conduit to their creator and guard the Matrix that allowed that communication, the femmes' objective was to guard over the planet they had been granted. They remained there even now, fulfilling that duty. Optimus had only met them once in her existence, briefly. They had unsettled her, at the time.   
    

    How strange that the one femme who didn't was a sacriligious seeker whose very existence was not only highly illegal, but blasphemous as well.   
    

    "... You didn't know?"  
    

    Starscream huffed at her. "Does it matter?"  
    

    She supposed not. It didn't change anything between their factions, after all. When they exited this room, it would not be with a Primus-dazed Starscream stumbling back into the sky.   
    

    "... Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked.   
    

    Starscream paused as she spooled the cable back into her interface array, looking up at Optimus. The smirk that she flashed seemed more mischeivious than malicious... but Optimus thought she might still be under the influence of that overload.   
    

    "I might've," Starscream conceded. "But somehow, I don't feel very blessed..."  
    

    "That's a shame," Optimus sighed. "Perhaps next time then."  
    

    "Next time...?" Starscream repeated, genuine confusion flashing over that expressive face.   
    

    "I would hate to leave you... disappointed. Next time," she promised. "Next time you will most definitely feel blessed."  
    

    Although Starscream could not see the Prime's face, she swore she could see a smirk underneath that blasted facial guard.   
  



	11. In A Different Clothing Style

                "This is gross," Starscream complained, spinning a tire and watching it with a look on his face that spoke of just _how_ gross he thought it was.

                "It's not so bad," Optimus replied. "And it's only temporary, after all."

                It _was_ temporary. But _temporary_ was still too long for Starscream to be stuck like this. He refused to transform at all, and he stared at his tires with some mingled form of disgust and fear.

                Comparatively, Optimus Prime had it _much_ better. If he'd only quit smacking his wings into walls and the edges of doorways, it would have been perfect. The first three times he collided with something, Starscream's mouth twitched in a sympathetic grimace hidden behind his face guard. But when the fourth time resulted in a wing-vibrating clang that left Optimus wheezing and clutching the offending wall for support, Starscream had enough.

                He gripped the errant wing until it stopped hurting, and when Optimus looked up at him (how _nice_ this angle was, really) he dragged the seeker outside and started drilling the idiot like a cadet.

                And Optimus took to it well - perhaps a little _too_ well, making Starscream wonder who Optimus had taken instruction from before even while he ruthlessly repressed a shiver of possessiveness - manuevering on the ground with increasing adeptness.

                The air, however, had never seen such a hopeless flier.

                Ratchet himself had to call it off, screaming over Starscream's orders to "DO IT RIGHT THIS TIME AND DON'T CRASH, YOU WASTE OF FUEL" and physically dragging Optimus into the repair bay to hammer out the dents caused by multiple crashes. Starscream snarled, complained, stomped his feet -

                And abruptly went silent. He stayed blessedly silent for a few long minutes as he stared down at his feet, and where their force had made the desert-brittle earth crack beneath them.

                He spent the rest of the time Optimus was in repairs staring at his hands, slowly clenching and unclenching them, a distant look in his optics. By the time Optimus was released from Ratchet's care, the truck had migrated to standing around just outside the med bay.

                "You didn't have to wait for me," Optimus grumbled. Starscream looked up from his own body long enough to ensure a double-take.

                "I wasn't wait- ... _what_ are those things on your wings?"

                Optimus frowned and flicked the appendages, slightly hunched over with the shame of it. "Ratchet put safety bumpers on them. So they don't get damaged."

                "Off," Starscream was suddenly advancing towards him, hands outstretched, " _Off!_ It's a disgrace-!"

                Starscream's looming shadow triggered something in Optimus Prime's coding... something he had never felt towards Starscream before.

                There was a flash of fear in his optics as he darted out of the way of Starscream's grasping hands, those foam-capped wings twitching upward in what was a blatant display of fear aggression.

                "..." Starscream stared, frozen in place with his large, powerful hands still held out. But then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. Optimus _knew_ it was a grin despite the face guard, because he could see the brightness of Starscream's optics deepen in a shade he knew all too well.

                He shifted uneasily on his feet - a decidedly un-Optimus gesture - and the thought of outright fleeing seemed to be pressing into his processors.

                "My, my," Starscream purred, stalking slowly closer with every step back Optimus was forced to take. "What have we here? A grounded seekerling?"

                A flash of confusion cut through Prime's growing fear. "What...? I'm not..." His optics widened at the sudden realization, then immediately narrowed again. ".... Are we _roleplaying_?"

                "You know what they say grounders do to stranded seekers who can't fly..." Starscream gleefully sang.

                "Lies," Optimus refuted, retreating further and further, until his back hit the corridor wall. "Lies and slander."

                Starscream's optics only grew brighter. He took another step forward and finally, it was too much for Optimus to take. With a startled cry, the hobbled jet took off running down the corridor.

                Starscream rumbled with anticipation and ran after him.

                If there was one thing Starscream knew, it was that a seeker couldn't hope to out-run a grounder on their own territory. And he was going to teach Optimus Prime that lesson very, _very_ well.

 


	12. During Their Morning Rituals

                Starscream knew why he did it. He did it, because if he didn't, his fool of a bondmate became agitated and started turning up in places he shouldn't, an obnoxious nuisance who had the tendency to ruin _everything_.

                So when Starscream arrived at his domicile (and it _was his_ no matter that it was in both their names and that Optimus spent more time there than Starscream ever did), he knew _why_ he was there. Watching as Optimus Prime closed his chest plates, the glow of his spark and the Matrix tucked away for another day, Starscream _knew_ why he waited.

                "Good morning," Optimus greeted with a quiet, happy rumble.

                "I take it all is well in the sparks of the faithful today," Starscream sneered back.

                "Did you recharge?"

                Starscream leaned against the railing of the balcony he had perched on, arms crossed. "Yes, yes," he complained. "Damned helicoptor, always _hovering_..."

                It was easy to say why he always came, every morning. What was harder, was determining _how_ Optimus Prime always managed to coerce him inside to refuel, and why, after the noise and activity of the night, Starscream felt his spark settle, if only for a moment, sipping energon in the quiet company of his bondmate.


	13. Spooning

                "Starscream, please stop moving your wings."

                "I would, if you would stop shoving your face into them!"

                "I'm not-"

                " _Fetishist._ "

                "..."

                "This position isn't tenable."

                "So? _You_ fix it. I'm comfy."

                "You just complained about my face in your wings!"

                "Well maybe I wouldn't complain if you were doing something more useful than just talking, back there."

                "... You're impossible."

                "What's _impossible_ is getting any recharge around he- ... oh. Hmmm."

                "Better?"

                "Shut up."


	14. Doing Something Together

                "I'm... not sure about this."

                "Hush," Starscream chided, glaring up at the truck. "Tighter. I can still slip out of these. And stop _wibbling_ , damnit, or I'm calling this off."

                Optimus made a protesting grinding noise, but he obediently checked the restraints around Starscream's wrists, shoulders, and ankle joints, gently touching each point, tugging the binding cord tighter by increments, listening intently to the tiny hitches in Starscream's ventilation.

                "Come _on_ ," Starscream complained, squirming, testing. The bonds held, to his immense satisfaction, but Optimus did not hurry. When he heard the quiet but unmistakable sound of a facial guard splitting and shifting to either side... Starscream stilled.

                Optimus rose from where he had been kneeling at Starscream's feet... and the seeker shuddered at the smirk on the Prime's face. More than being bound and immobile, more than the whole scenario they had planned out, it was that smirk that made Starscream feel uneasy.

                Just for a moment. Just a little. It wasn't as if he was scared, or anything.

                "Are we _finally_ ready?" he huffed, wings twitching restlessly. The bells attached to his wingtips by small clamps jingled at the movement. Optimus watched them briefly, unable to resist, but there was only so long that trick lasted. Soon enough, Optimus refocused his attention, and that worrying smirk only deepened.

                "In a hurry?" Optimus taunted. Starscream writhed helplessly as Prime's hands just _barely_ touched him, skimming over his sides, tickling his hips, finding small gaps in his plating that were sensitive to pressure, and tapping them just once, lightly.

                "It's a good thing you're not the one calling the shots right now, isn't it?" Optimus continued, talking calmly and evenly over Starscream's cursing. "I can take my time, for once. Maybe teach you... some patience."

                "Slagger," Starscream spit, straining to arch up into those teasing touches. Optimus only hummed in response, optics dimming with satisfaction as he flicked one wingtip lightly, sending the attached bell swaying.

                Much later, when he'd exhausted himself, hanging limp in his bounds but still panting out heated air from a charged-up but unfulfilled system, Starscream finally fell silent. He felt emptier...

                Optimus lifted his chin up to look him in the face, an expression of mild concern on his own... And that was when Starscream felt safe enough to let go.


	15. In Formal Wear

                They stumbled into the room, all awkward limbs and inebriated giggles, tripping on the ornate capes that trailed behind them both. It had taken some effort to get even this far. The post-ceremony party was traditionally very stiffly formal... but after the war, traditions fell away. The bonding ceremony of a Prime was an important event after all, so why shouldn't they celebrate?

                It was just that, generally speaking, the two mechs doing the bonding shouldn't be the ones getting sloshed.

                "That was... _haha!_... was a waste of time!" Starscream leaned heavily on his now legally recognized partner, hands groping at the Prime's shoulders and arms for balance.

                "Considering we were already bonded?" Optimus threw his arm around Starscream's shoulders, trying to blearily focus on the desk in the room. Was it his? He thought it might be. He certainly hoped it wasn't one of his secretary's.

                "Yesss," Starscream slurred, finally seeming to catch on, using his leverage to pull himself up, practically clambering ontop of Optimus in his effort to turn and face him, face pulled in an exaggerated sultry look, the deep purple cape swishing and swirling behind him with every movement. It felt good against his wings, actually.

                The Prime's red cape was not nearly so soft, Starscream decided as he tugged on it to drag the idiot into position. More ornate, yes, with gold filaments etched into every square inch of it, whorls and glyphs and designs, but Starscream knew that it was _gaudy_ compared to his own elegant, simple cape that accentuated what was _really_ important about the wearer: that it was Starscream wearing it.

                Their inebriation and subsequent distraction did not, however, dull their senses any to the quiet whine of a blaster warming up for a shot. Neither did it hamper their reaction times - though Starscream was slowed for a moment by Prime's automatic motion to shield his bondmate and take the blast himself, the moron.

                Slowed response or not, the shot went wide. Starscream sprang up and leapt to the desk, pouncing on the shooter who was behind it. The would-be assassin had used it as a cover.

                "There's no hiding from I, Starscream!" the seeker declared, grabbing the mech by his arms - and subsequently snapping them at the joints, leaving the mech screaming and both limbs useless. Thus disabled, Starscream was able to take his time and enjoy himself.

                "Not a professional assassin," he surmised. "We might actually be _injured_ if it was."

                Optimus stepped forward. "Don't kill him."

                "Isn't it the law that he's to be put to death?" Starscream rebutted, casting a glare back at the Prime. How dare he try to interfere with his fun!

                "We can have him interrogated and find out the extent of this plot," Optimus pointed out, and Starscream grudgingly had to concede that there was some logic to that. Easier than tracking down the mech's employer _after_ he was dead.

                "Fine," Starscream spat, then turned back to the hapless assassin with a terrifying grin. "You get to live for another day!" A swipe, and the mech's optics were shattered.

                "Lucky you," Starscream said over the screaming. He dropped the mech to the ground and turned again, sitting on the desk with his legs crossed at the ankle, energon-stained hands leaving glowing marks on the surface and in little flecks on his armor. He did not miss the way Optimus watched him, the tiny twitches in those strong fingers that the seeker had been interpreting for a long, long time now.

                "Well?" he asked, a smirk taunting the Prime. "Where were we?"


	16. Dancing

                "Don't be such a coward!" Starscream hissed over the comm unit. The wind was too powerful for speaking audibly.

                "You should talk," Optimus snapped back. He wasn't normally so peevish... but being several miles above the ground did that to even the staunchest mechs.

                "Hush," Starscream chided him, voice startlingly gentle. "Or I'll drop you."

                "You wouldn't."

                "It's part of the ceremony, _groundpounder_. If I don't find you worthy enough, I can drop you and not catch you again. It's perfectly legal."

                Optimus grumbled in his engine, the vibration surely carrying up into Starscream's frame. But he said no more. Privately, he thought these "ceremonies" were entirely made up by Starscream to mess with him. Starscream had never seemed the type to abide by ancient laws (or any laws, when it suited him) and he thought that being a Prime should be enough to exempt him from this "prove your worthiness as a seeker consort" act.

                After it began and Starscream was roaring through the air, his grip tight on Optimus until he _let go_ and then caught the Prime again... after a few repitions of _that_ , Optimus was too shaken to think of much else.


	17. Ine Battle Side-By-Side

                A shot took him, screaming, out of the sky. Optimus saw it happen from his position jammed up against the exposed roots of a xeropheric plant that lay on its side, overturned during the fighting. He heard the scream, and the impact of a jet hitting the ground.

                Optimus fired off a few more shots and opened a path for himself between the mass of techno-organics. They screeched and flailed and tried to retaliate, but Optimus was transforming and driving through them before they could reorganize.

                He broke free of their ranks into open ground, and soon enough his tires took him to the crash site.

                There Starscream sat, one side of his torso cracked in a jagged line, thrusters bent and turbine fans broken. From trying to slow his fall, no doubt. Optimus transformed again and climbed his way over the debris to Starscream's side.

                "Could use some slagging _ground support_ ," Starscream hissed, optics focused on the damage to his thrusters, but every sense attuned to their surroundings. Optimus kept his plasma rifle at the ready.

                "Reinforcements are enroute," Optimus assured him. Starscream responded with a grunt.

                "Do you need assistance?"

                Starscream looked up at the offered hand disdainfully. "No," he answered, reaching up and gripping the Prime's hand. "But I'll take it anyway. We've got incoming."

                Optimus pulled him to his feet, but the seeker was still unbalanced, with the damage taken to his pedes. The muted roar of their enemies crested over the same hill Optimus had driven over. Evidently they had regrouped, and were less than pleased at his earlier stunt.

                Both Cybertronians moved in tandem, sliding to lean back-to-back - Starscream for support, and Optimus for cover.

                "Try to keep up," Starscream said.

                "Likewise, beloved."

                Starscream's cursing was drowned out in the hum and scream of laser-fire.


	18. Arguing

                In any war, there were good days and bad days. Days when battles had gone well, when there were no casualties... and days like this one.

                The skirmish had lasted far longer than it should have. Days, in fact, because they had been trying to uproot a faction of Decepticons from where they had decided to settle in around a power plant. With most of the Autobot officers in the medbay now, it fell on Optimus to do all the post-battle checks. Collect reports. Compile them. Send energy and supply requests out to the human government. And, because he was Optimus Prime and could not leave his troops languishing, he went around to each and every bot in the crew. To reassure, comfort, bolster, and console his Autobots. They needed it, after this.

                So it was late by the time Optimus felt he could retire to his quarters, and he was too exhausted to greet the shadowy form in his darkened entry room. He walked by, every step more tired than the last.

                "No hello?" Starscream's voice grated in the silence. Optimus could tell he was irritated... but had no energy left to cater to his partner's demands tonight. He ignored the seeker.

                But Starscream was never one to be dismissed.

                "Licking your wounds?" Starscream taunted as Optimus sat heavily on one of the few chairs in the room. It had been on this very seat that Prowl had set out their plan to oust the Decepticon occupation. Prowl was still in surgery, last Optimus heard.

                "You know better than to come here directly after a battle," Optimus warned. Starscream, predictably, was undeterred. In the darkened room, the Decepticon's optics were bright with the lingering burn of violence.

                "Don't tell me what I know," he snapped.

                "We're both too worked up. You should leave."

                " _Make me._ "

                Optimus did not move. A sigh gusted through his vents.

                "A coward on _and_ off the battlefield I see," Starscream opined.

                "You can't leave well enough alone, can you?" Optimus said in a dull, tired voice. "But I suppose that's the story of your life, so I shouldn't expect any different."

                _That_ hit a nerve. Starscream bristled, and if there was violence bubbling under the surface of his processors, it was frothing over the top now. In two steps the seeker was looming over the seated Prime, furious heat radiating from his frame.

                "And you, Optimus Prime?" he hissed lowly. "You always make the right decisions! Like the decision to charge recklessly into messy battle, antagonizing Megatron further, pushing that great idiot to even greater acts of idiocy! You're making us _desperate_ , Prime."

                "I know that." It sounded like a bland excuse, even to himself.

                "Is that so?" Now Starscream circled, pacing a restless path around and around Optimus. A judgement circuit, from someone Optimus regarded as a hypocrite in the best of times. "Is _that_ your plan?"

                "We don't talk politics," Optimus reminded him.

                "To make us desperate, to make us _hungry_ ," Starscream continued heedlessly. "We've been that before. You know what happens."

                "You can't really find an even _crazier_ leader though," Optimus commented glibly. When Starscream struck him, it was as powerful as it was unexpected. Optimus almost fell out of the chair from the force of it. One hand reached up to touch the dent in his face guard.

                "Which one of your Autobots do I have to kill to make it sink into your addled processors?" Starscream was all but shouting now. "Which one should I strangle the life out of in front of you before you can see?"

                Optimus stood, the sheer size and abruptness forcing Starscream back a step. It was enough of an opening for Optimus. He brushed past the Decepticon Air Commander and walked towards the door.

                "Coward!" Starscream shouted after him. " _Coward!_ Come back here! Does the truth sting so badly, Prime?"

                The Prime's response was cool - cold, even - matching the hue of his optics as he regarded Starscream. "Look who's talking," he said. Then, he added, "When I return, I expect you to be gone. If you are not, I will assume you have given yourself up as prisoner, and alert the Autobots as necessary. Goodbye, Starscream."

                And he was gone before Starscream could say another word.


	19. Making Up

                When Ratchet went missing during their latest skirmish with the Decepticons, there was a panic. Lucky enough that they had energy to panic - with fewer injuries, the Autobots had all the time in the world to imagine what was happening to their cranky, beloved medic. When Megatron's demands for a ransom proved their worst fears, it was all the officers could do to keep the already loose chain of command intact. The last thing anyone needed was rogue Autobots flinging themselves recklessly at the _Nemesis_ in noble, but foolhardy attempts at rescuing Ratchet.

                The negotiations with Megatron were, predictably, going badly when Optimus got the coordinates - and it was a half day later before he could follow them. The sender's intentions were unclear, given their last... communication.

                But when Optimus pulled up to the location, there was Ratchet - and not a Decepticon or a trap in sight.

                "Optimus!" the medic called out, still bound immobile by stasis cuffs.

                "Hold on, friend," Optimus rumbled in reply as he transformed and knelt by Ratchet, working to get the cuffs off. "We'll get you out of here."

                "What's going on?" Ratchet was frazzled, dented, his paint marred, but not seriously injured."Optimus? This isn't a hostage release..." As Chief Medical Officer, Ratchet knew the usual proceedures... which almost always involved Megatron and Optimus meeting personally, and a group of Decepticons to harass and backstab the Autobots rescuing their hapless companion.

                "Starscream brought me here," Ratchet continued.

                "We will discuss it later."

                "No! Optimus, what's going on? What sort of deal have you made with Starscream?"

                "None," he answered, perfectly truthful. "There is no deal."

                Ratchet's suspicion did not end there... but it quieted on the night that Optimus went out for a drive and did not return until dawn, scratches of blue in a not-quite-similar shade on his frame.


	20. Gazing Into Eachother's Eyes

                In retrospect, it was one of Starscream's stupider plans. At first, he hadn't wanted to admit it... but now, in his current predicament, Starscream could concede that much.

                "It's just... wow! I don't mean to gawk, honestly, you must be offended, but...!"

                Starscream came to the past, to pre-war Cybertron to take hold of the revolution himself, to stop Megatron from rising to power. Instead, he was inelegantly caught in the netting of some stupid little Autobot who wouldn't shut up.

                "And _why_ can't you cut me out of here again?" Starscream grumbled, optics narrowed to dangerous slits. Strangely, it only seemed to make the mech gape more, lips parted slightly mid-sentence.

                Annoying brat.

                "Oh... well, see, I don't have authorization to cut the netting," the little Autobot (for it could be nothing else, with those bright blue optics, though Starscream wondered suddenly why a menial worker would have them instead of the much more commonly assigned red) explained, fidgeting and wringing his hands together.

                "I'm giving you authorization. Cut me loose."

                But as much of a fool as he evidently was, this Autobot wasn't _that_ stupid. Some of the eager enthusiasm melted from his face. "You're not my supervisor. Nice try though. I don't blame you for trying."

                The Autobot watched with too-rapt attention as Starscream screeched and thrashed in his prison, only entangling himself further. When the fit passed, they were _both_ blessedly silent for a while.

                "... Do you intend to keep gawking all day?" Starscream finally snapped.  The Autobot jumped guiltily.

                "Sorry," he murmured, all apologetic smiles. But rather than look away, or make his glances covert, the Autobot kept boldly staring. The attention was... nice, Starscream had to admit, but it made him uneasy too.

                "Don't be _sorry_ ," Starscream hissed. "You'll never survive your first battle with an attitude like that!"

                "Battle?" the Autobot said, head tilting to one side. "Why would I be in a battle? Are we at war somewhere?"

                "Nevermind. Just shut up."

                "Have _you_ been in a battle?" Trust an Autobot to be disobedient. Starscream huffed in overexaggerated exasperation.

                "Yes," he answered. Until he could figure a way out of this, he may as well entertain himself. "Many. All victorious, of course."

                "Of course," the Autobot agreed - with a startling sincerity that confused Starscream. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't, right?"

                "... Right." He looked the Autobot up and down once more, this time more slowly. Analyzing. Assessing. "What's your designation, little Autobot?"

                "What's an Autobot? That some kind of insult?"

                "Of a sort. Your _designation_ mech!"

                _There_. Right there, on that insufferable face, a smile Starscream knew down to his spark. Their gazes met, red and blue, and Starscream _knew_.

                "Orion Pax, at your service, my flying friend!"

                At least the corny lines lessened over time, Starscream mused.


	21. Getting Married

                "No! NO NO NO! That doesn't go _there!_ You moron, what is this?!"

                Optimus wandered the halls of the New Iaconian Temple to clear his mind. The upcoming ceremony weighed on him. Was he ready? He felt ready. The ceremony was just that - purely ceremonial. Their relationship was already well-worn _and_ well-known. That the priests insisted was expected.

                What wasn't expected was just how enthusiastic _Starscream_ was about it.

                He stepped into the Great Hall just in time to get his audials blasted by his Consort-to-be's echoing screeches as he berated the temple's staff.

                Starscream stood in the midst of what seemed to Optimus like chaos, but from the way Starscream was directing, was probably more like a dance to the seeker. Or, more accurately, a war exercise.

                " _You!_ " Starscream pointed to one mech carrying  banners. "What are _those_ doing here?"

                "I, I, um..." the poor minibot stopped in his tracks, disrupting four others behind him. "They're... they're the traditional decorations, sir, I mean, Lord Starscream, I was just-"

                "They're ugly," Starscream declared, arms crossed and nose in the air. "I won't have them."

                The minibot looked back and forth for support... but there was none coming from his fellow staff-turned-servants-to-Starscream's-will. "But..." he argued, "Lord Starscream, they're traditional..."

                "And?" Starscream's disdain could have cut the air itself even more effectively than his wings. "Get rid of them. I won't go through with this marriage with such hideous trappings around me. It will ruin _everything_. I refuse to be associated with this... this!"

                "..." Optimus knew he should step in and save them... but he lingered there in the archway for a little while longer, watching silently. Plenty of bots had already voiced their concerns about his choice in partner, and even on the best days Optimus would agree with most of their complaints.

                Maybe it was because of the upcoming ceremony and its influence on his nerves... but today, the screaming, moody, absolutely impossible diva that was Starscream couldn't have made Optimus Prime any happier.


	22. Birthday

                The day Starscream climbed his way out of the Well of Allsparks, Optimus Prime was there.

                Orion Pax had not yet emerged onto Cybertron's surface, but a trick of temporal shifting had the young Prime witness to the rare sight of a seeker climbing over the lip of the gash in Cybertron from whence they all came. From Primus, some said; from an ancient machine buried deep in the core, others said.

                Either way, Optimus Prime stood quietly, unobtrusively to the side as Starscream pulled himself up, the last of his Batch to make the ascension and Emerge. He continued watching as the attendants, those Cybertronians whose function it was to acclimate new bots to their society and initiate them into their own functions, gave the mech his first taste of energon and gently examined his frame; the wings, the thrusters, the head.

                When they asked him why he hadn't flown out of the Well like the rest of his framekin, Starscream huffed, barely a breem old and already full of self-importance and pride.

                " _Everyone_ was taking that route," he sniffed. "It's much more impressive my way."


	23. Something Ridiculous

                "Ignore them," Optimus advised over the grumbling of engines and tires and road rushing by. Sideswipe zoomed past, laughing, and Optimus could feel the tension in his... passenger.

                "I _am_ ," Starscream snapped, violence simmering right below the surface. Violence he was incapable of acting on, given that his transformation cog was blown and he was trapped as a F-16, and furthermore, strapped to Optimus Prime's flatbed. "They're beneath my notice."

                "As you say," Optimus agreed hastily. "So long as you don't try to fire on them like this. I'd rather avoid a messy multi-mech crash and pile-up."

                "Really." Starscream's tone was dry. "Because that sounds rather refreshing."

                "Yes, you ferocious Decepticon. Mayhem and destruction follows in your contrail."

                "Lucky for you, that's the truth. Now I won't have to shoot you for being sarcastic."

                "Lucky for my libido, you mean."

                "Shut up and keep driving or your spark will be the least lucky part of your damned frame."

                "Awww."


	24. Something Sweet

                "I'm sorry Optimus!" Spike stood over the ruins of what had, once, been Optimus Prime's favorite rifle. "I was only trying to make it a little better!"

                "What was wrong with it?" Optimus knelt, looking down at their human. Spike reeked of stress, and despite the pang of loss Optimus felt towards what had been his favorite (and often only) weapon, he could not be angry at Spike.

                "Nothing, really," Spike muttered, scuffing his foot against the ground with a grimace. "I just... I wanted to help. Like my dad. He's always helping you guys with stuff, helping Wheeljack and Ratchet make new things... I just wanted to help too."

                "It's alright Spike." The human unconsciously relaxed at the comforting rumble of his voice. "But in the future, please refrain from unauthorized modifications."

                "Yes Prime," Spike chirped like any dutiful Autobot soldier, and followed his Prime out, led somewhere where he'd be safer, less prone to the troublesome curiousity that seemed to plague humans.

                Starscream watched from around a corner, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and red optics narrow with irritation.

                ---

                When Optimus couldn't find the disassembled parts of his weapon later, he assumed that some Autobot had come along and gathered it up to recycle. He had mourned a little, privately, and moved on. There were bigger, more important things to worry about, after all, and he was only a tiny bit sentimental.

                It was therefore a surprise to find his rifle, wholly intact, cleaned, and polished laid out on his berth weeks later. A datapad softly glowed next to it. The words on the screen when he picked it up were:

                _Here's your gun back. I took the liberty of making some improvements to its primitive design. Take care your human pet does not get ahold of it again, or he'll be in for a rather nasty surprise._

                It was not signed... but it didn't need to be. Optimus smiled behind his mask, erased the message, and swung the newly rebuilt gun over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everybody! It was a ton of fun writing these. Please leave me a note and let me know what you think!


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